“Why would they tell you to run?” Rogan questions, but it seems like it’s aimed more at himself than at me.
“I have no idea,” I confess, trying to think back to that day. “I shoved magic through Elon’s whole property. I didn’t pick up on anything else there other than Marx lurking in the backyard.”
I study Marx for a beat and notice that Rogan does the same thing.
“Do you have anything to do with the disappearances?” Rogan asks his friend.
“What? Of course I don’t. How could you even think that?” he sputters, shocked.
“I’m not accusing you of anything; I had to ask,” Rogan defends and then returns to his pacing.
I move closer to Marx and poke at his cheek. He slaps my hand away and levels an irritated glare at me until I back away.
“Just making sure we don’t have some Scooby Doo shit on our hands,” I tell him. “No bad guy wearing a good guy mask is getting past me.”
Marx just shakes his head and shoos me away even more.
“This doesn’t add up. Why would a kidnapper out themselves to authorities and then expect said authorities to help them?” Rogan questions, his eyes far away in thought. “How does that make sense?”
“Does it need to make sense?” I counter. “Nikki Smelser, or whoever is behind this, obviously has issues. There isn’t a thing about any of it that makes sense. I don’t know that we’ll get anywhere other than pissed off and frustrated by trying to make sense of why anything is happening the way that it is.”
Rogan sighs and runs a hand down his face. “So what do we do now?” he asks Marx, whose phone goes off again.
“We keep doing what we’ve been doing,” Marx reassures. “We look into what leads we can and keep fitting things together until the puzzle is complete. Are you still wanting to get into the other missing Osteomancers’ houses?”
“Yes, I want to get a feel for them, see if the bones can tell me anything,” I confirm.
“Okay, I can try and sneak you into a couple tomorrow night. They are all being warded and guarded right now, but a couple people on the team owe me a favor,” Marx reassures.
“Okay, good, because the last place I want to be is anywhere near the Order,” I admit, flashes of the accident and subsequent attack coaxing a shiver to crawl up my back.
“Yeah, I think that’s a wise idea. Prek and his team have been assigned to the case, and there’s obviously no love lost there,” Marx informs us. “I’m sorry to just drop all of this and run, but I’ve got to go,” he announces moving toward the door. “I’ll send over a picture of Nikki when I get back to the office, and I’ll confirm we’re good to go for tomorrow night.”
“Thank you,” Rogan tells him, grasping his forearm for a quick shake before seeing him out. Marx shoots me a wave and an apologetic look, and then he’s gone.
Rogan and I release a tired sigh at the same time. It would be funny in other circumstances, but right now it feels like we might be taking the last gasp of air before we’re pulled under by everything we just found out. I want to comfort Rogan, but experience has taught me that sometimes there isn’t anything that can be said or done to make something stop hurting. So I just stand there, silently supportive, so that he knows he’s not alone in this.
“I’m going to check the wards around the property and then get cleaned up. We’ll leave in an hour,” Rogan tells me, moving for the door.
“Leaving?” I ask, confused.
“We have that meeting with the coven today, you know, to figure out this whole tethering thing,” he reminds me, and it’s all I can do not to facepalm.
“Right,” I declare, trying not to look like an idiot.
How the hell did that slip my mind? He just told me about it.
“Can we stop by that diner on our way so I can drop off the tea?” I ask. “You know, if it’s on the way,” I add, realizing I have no idea where it is in relation to where we are now or where we’re going.
“Yeah, that works, let’s leave in thirty then, cool?”
Rogan disappears out the door before I can so much as offer my cool in agreement, and despair settles around me in his wake. I can’t really blame him; I’d probably need a moment to myself too if I thought my parents were plotting against me.
I look over at my bag of bones and send out a plea to them for help. I feel at a complete loss for what to do. Clearly, the Order thinks the solution is obvious, but the one interaction I’ve had with them could have killed me. They play too fast and loose to be trusted with something I value above all things, my life.
I sense the hot breath of some unknown danger as it breathes threateningly down my back. I worry I won’t be smart enough, fast enough, or powerful enough to keep from getting swallowed up by it. I have so many questions and so few answers. It’s beyond frustrating and disheartening.
I fluff my curls and make my way upstairs to get my shoes. Hopefully, after meeting with this coven, I can check worries about tethering off my list. If Rogan and I can fix our magic without any long-term damage, then I’ll count that as the win. And one thing I know for sure is that right now, we could desperately use one.
Sleigh bells jingle as I pull the door to the diner open, a box of homemade pain-relieving tea bags tucked under my arm. I realized as we parked outside that I didn’t get the waitress’s name, and I’m not sure if she’ll be working today.
I scan the mostly empty diner. There’s a younger raven-haired waitress refilling the drinks of a middle-aged couple sitting side by side in a booth. And at the counter, a woman with curly dark brown hair sits on a stool, casually sipping a cup of coffee. Disappointment drops like a marble in my gut when I don’t see the waitress with the kind blue eyes roaming around.
I approach the counter and set the box on top of the clean surface, waiting for the raven-haired waitress to finish up with the couple. Hopefully, she’ll either be willing to pass along the tea or tell me when I can stop back by to drop it off myself. The lady with the curly dark hair looks over at me, and I offer her a warm smile.
She gives me an uncertain half-grin and then drops her gaze back down to her cup of coffee. The door to the back swings open, and to my relief, the waitress with the salt-and-pepper hair and warm blue eyes walks out.
“Hello, honey,” she greets me warmly. “What can I get started for you?” she adds as she settles in front of me.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I brought that tea that I mentioned when I was here before,” I tell her, and then I see a flash of confusion streak through her gaze. She takes me in, I’m sure searching her memory banks, and I know she’s found our exchange when her eyes light up. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to drop it off yesterday, but as promised, there’s nothing bad or illegal, and it won’t make you sick,” I reassure her.
“Oh don’t be sorry, honey. Truth be told, I completely forgot, so this is a welcome surprise.”
I chuckle and hand the box over. I hope it helps—my grandmother swore by it—and I put my card in the box in case you ever want more.”
“That’s kind of you, dear, are you sure I don’t owe you anything?” she asks, taking the box. I can feel her genuine curiosity and excitement.